Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,126
not. Maybe, if you don’t lose the attitude, we three will go and you can stay with Nana and help with Grampy, because you’re not . . . how should I put this? You’re not bringing much to the table these days. I mean, we love you, but you’re a real pain in the ass lately, and I’m not sure you deserve a vacation at all.”
Brianna’s mouth dropped open.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Oliver said, putting his hand over Juliet’s. “But Mum’s got a point.”
“Am I a pain in the ass?” Sloane asked.
“Not yet, honey, and hopefully not ever,” Juliet said. “Brianna, you need to try harder. Okay? Great. Also, I’ll be taking your phone for the rest of the school year. I don’t think it’s good for you, being attached to it as much as you are.”
If looks could kill . . . There was no love in that glare, that was for sure.
Shit. The panic attack was coming. She’d quit her job. She’d turned down frickin’ partner and was currently unemployed for the first time in her life and her daughter hated her and they might not go to Hawaii, and she had really, really been looking forward to it, and— “Excuse me.”
Down the stairs, down the hall, into the closet. Breathebreathebreathe, nope not working. She lay down, legs weak, and wished she’d thought to bring a paper bag. Her vision grayed, but this time she didn’t want to faint. She just wanted . . . she just wanted nothing.
The truth was, she had everything.
She’d find a job. She could start her own firm. She’d be fine. Oliver made a decent enough living. They could switch their health care to his work, even if it was a worse plan, and . . .
“Mommy?” Brianna sounded like a little girl again, scared from a bad dream. Shit. Had she done that?
“Yes, honey?” Juliet said, sitting up.
“Are you really that mad at me?”
“No! No. Just tired of the . . . bitchiness.”
“You still like me, though, right?”
“Of course!” A lie, but really. Parenthood was ninety percent forgiveness, ten percent lies and a hundred percent love.
“Why are you in the closet?”
“Oh, I guess I’m . . . hiding from life. Sometimes I feel scared about things.”
“Like what?”
“Like, am I a good mother? Have I been helpful and kind today? Will everyone I love be okay? Can I be doing more?”
“That’s a lot.” Brianna sat down next to her and picked up one of Juliet’s shoes, fiddling with the strap.
“It is.”
“Is being a grown-up hard?”
“Sometimes.”
Brianna started to cry, her sweet little face crumpling. “I don’t want to grow up, Mom. I hate all this, the periods and zits and boobs and boys and the drama. I want to be eight again. Eight was really fun.” Her voice squeaked on the last word, and Juliet gathered her up against her, every molecule in her body wanting to wrap around her child and protect her from every hurt, every bad feeling.
“I understand, honey. I do. I remember how hard it is.” She kissed Brianna’s hair. “But you know what? You’re going to like your body pretty soon. It’s so weird, but you will. This is the hardest time. You’ll get through it. Daddy and I are with you every step of the way.”
“Is there anything good about being a grown-up?”
Juliet laughed. “Sure. You can pick someone really great, like your dad, to be your best friend, and you get to live with each other. You can find a job that you love doing.”
“I don’t know what I want to do. I hate when grown-ups ask me that.”
“You’re not supposed to know. Tell them that. Say, ‘Hey, I’m twelve. Give me some room here.’”
Brianna laughed a little.
“You know what the best part of being a grown-up is?” Juliet asked.
“No.”
“You get to be a mommy if you want.”
“I thought I was a pain in the ass,” Brianna muttered.
“You are. But you’re my pain in the ass. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
Brianna didn’t answer, didn’t hug her any tighter, didn’t say, I love you so much, or You always make me feel better, as Juliet would have said to her own mom.
Brianna didn’t have to. Juliet already knew.
A few hours later, when the girls were in bed, and Oliver was “thoroughly shagged” and sound asleep, Juliet went to her computer and typed an e-mail.